


Squeak, Piggy, Squeak, or Merry's Lesson in Teamwork

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Nonmonogamy, Threesome Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry plays games and experiences teamwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squeak, Piggy, Squeak, or Merry's Lesson in Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> In most of the hobbitpiles I've read, Pippin or Frodo tend to be the ones in the middle. I thought it might be nice to put Merry there for once, and he didn't mind it at all. ;)

Title: Squeak, Piggy, Squeak, or Merry's Lesson in Teamwork  
Challenge: [](http://community.livejournal.com/hobbit_smut/profile)[**hobbit_smut**](http://community.livejournal.com/hobbit_smut/), "Games Hobbits Play" Challenge  
Rating: NC-17   
Pairings: F/M/P   
Warnings: slash, het, slight wistfulness.  
Summary: Merry plays games and experiences teamwork.

 

"So, how goes the life of the heir to Brandy Hall?" Frodo's very cheer felt like a slap; Merry hid his wince and returned the smile, but Frodo immediately fixed him with a keen gaze and grasped his shoulders. "Not so well, I see."

Between pride and futility, Merry shook his head. "It's nothing," he said airily, but Frodo's grip only tightened. "Nothing, Merry? Your eyes don't say so. Sit down, and tell me."

"You're bossy," Merry protested as he was firmly placed on the window seat; Frodo grinned for reply. "Yes, I am, Meriadoc. And you're going to tell me what is troubling my dear friend, a handsome, well-born tween hobbit with a half-dozen kissing-friends."

The thought of kissing-friends hurt. "Not quite so many," Merry muttered, looking down at Frodo's dark red waistcoat, at the buttons shining in the thin winter sunlight. "Everard's not talking to me; neither is Dittany, doubtless because he told her."

Frodo gently stroked Merry's shoulder. "Told her what, Merry?"

Merry closed his eyes, wincing at the memory. "That I called him Pippin. At a, well, rather inopportune moment."

"Oh." Frodo sucked in his breath, and his hand stilled for a moment before resuming. "Well. I could see how that might distress a hobbit. But then, they look a bit alike---"

"They're nothing alike!" Merry stopped, shocked at his own vehemence; he cautiously glanced up to see Frodo suppressing a grin beneath an open, concerned expression. "I mean, well, oh, dash it all, Frodo, I think I've fallen in love with the lad." Merry dropped his head into his hands.

"You've always loved him," came the expected reply, and Merry shook his head, hands and all. "Not like this. He's been my playmate since he was born, so when he asked I thought it'd be no different, playing tweens together. And it's been fun, well, you know how much fun." Merry didn't have to look up to know Frodo's grin had emerged onto his face. "But recently, since he grew that final inch, _everyone_ sees him now, and he just shines with the attention. I hardly see him anymore. And I miss him so; I can't sleep, I can't eat, unless he's near. I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"Merry." Frodo laid a hand over Merry's hand. "It took you long enough to see it." Stung, Merry looked up, but Frodo's gentle smile forestalled sharp words. "Have you said anything?"

Merry shook his head forlornly. "What will I say? 'Pippin, now that you've come into your own as a tweenager and everyone from Brandy Hall to Great Smials wants you in their bed, I've realized that I can't live without you in mine'? I'll sound besotted, Frodo! I'll sound like a _lass_!"

"You'll sound like you're in love with him, which you are." Frodo slid his hand beneath Merry's chin. "He loves you, Merry. He has since he was a babe who'd scream till his cousin held him."

Merry smiled at the memory, but shook his head regardless. "He loves me as his cousin, who's always been there for him, who'll always be there whenever he returns to tell me of whichever lass or lad he's foot-fur over head-curls for now. That's how he loves me. I can't ask him to stop being a tween for me."

"You're a tween, as well," Frodo pointed out; Merry rolled his eyes. "I won't be for much longer. I'll be thirty-one this birthday. Father reminded me that I need to marry soon."

"Yes, Uncle Saradoc would say that." It was Frodo's turn to roll his eyes. "Soon, as in within the next ten years, Merry. I think you have a few more years left to you before you need to go a-courting for a wife. You might think about who's nearer whom you would court." Frodo's eyes sparkled wickedly; Merry heaved a sigh with all the wounded dignity he could muster, but Frodo merely regarded him with twinkling eyes and quirking lips, before asking, "Merry, what do _you_ want? Do you want to begin pursuing a wife? Do you want Pippin to keep to you alone?"

Merry shook his head vehemently at both questions. "Oh, no. I'm fond of lasses, but I haven't met any I want to bind myself to for the rest of my life, not yet. The only one I feel so about is Pippin, and, well, I can't wed him, can I?" They both laughed at that. "And Pippin is, well, Pippin. I couldn't ask him to stop making friends, nor would I, he has such joy of it, it's wonderful to watch. I just want...." Merry shook his head. "It's been three years and more, perhaps he's just wearying of me. He has the whole Shire before him, after all."

"Merry." Frodo's voice was firm, his hand soft, both implacable. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what do you want?"

_Pippin_, Merry thought, and took a deep breath. "Pippin. To know that whomever else he flits off with he won't leave me, he'll always be my Pippin."

Frodo nodded. "And what do you need, to know that?"

"What do I need?" Merry considered this question with blank amazement. "I don't, well, I don't know." Frodo sighed, and pulled Merry into an embrace, kissing his brow as he had in years past to soothe a scrape or a scolding. "You might think on that, Merry. And you might think on whom it is that Pippin does return to, with all his tales and all his questions." Frodo stroked Merry's hair. "Rather as a teenaged lad with golden hair used to come to me."

Merry nodded, rubbing his cheek on Frodo's weskit, smiling at the memory. "You told me once, Frodo, that one day I'd love someone beyond my peace. Thank you for the curse."

Frodo laughed. "It was no more than you deserved, impossibly young and beautiful lad that you were." Merry laughed as well, pulling Frodo closer. "I suppose it was. I had no idea how cruel I was being."

Frodo's arms tightened for a long moment, before he pushed Merry upright again. "You were very young, and only just beginning to understand. Pippin's not as young as you were."

Merry considered that briefly. "Perhaps. At any rate. How are the residents of Bagshot Row?"

Frodo laughed again. "You mean, how are Sam and Marigold. They're fine; Sam sends his greetings, and warns you to stay away from his little sister." Merry roared with laughter, and so neither of them heard soft footsteps edging away from the door of Frodo's guestroom.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Merry butted the sitting-room door open with his hip, holding two full flasks of brandy aloft, and the assembled hobbits cheered. He stood laughing in the doorway, looking at a dozen cheerful tweens already arranged in a ring on the floor between the couches, lit by a warm fire and large candles all around the room, and had a sudden wistful thought that he'd miss such cheerful pursuits when he came of age. But then, did he have to leave them behind? Frodo sat amidst the tweens, laughing with Stel Bolger, and Frodo was well past his majority and the master of Bag End, though he didn't look any older than Merry. Of course, Bag End, lovely smial though it was, was hardly Brandy Hall...

With a little shake, Merry pushed the melancholy away and strode into the room, waving the flasks over his head as his friends stretched their arms out to him and begged flirtatiously. He was here now, and young enough to play, and with two flasks of the second-best brandy in the Hall in his hands and thirteen pairs of eyes warm on him.

Fourteen pairs. "Merry!" cried Pippin behind him, and Merry turned just in time to catch an armful of wriggling Took. "I'm glad I found you!" Pippin kissed Merry so meltingly he nearly dropped the bottles. The others hooted and cheered, but Merry hardly heard them beyond the blood pounding in his ears and Pippin's heart beating against his; he had to take a deep breath, eyes still closed, before he could retort, "me or my brandy?"

Pippin snorted, kissed Merry's nose, and detached himself to sit down between Frodo and Freddy. "What are we playing?"

"Squeak, Piggy," said Frodo authoritatively, and the others nodded and murmured agreement. Merry handed one flask off to Estella, who uncorked it and took a sturdy swig that made him raise his eyebrow; she returned his gaze with a head-toss and a giggle. "Don't get drunk," Freddy scolded, and she stuck her tongue out at him, and Merry laughed.

Frodo glanced at Stel and Freddy, and, satisfied that the siblings wouldn't leap at each other, got to his feet, leaving Pippin as a buffer between them. "Pillow or no?" he asked the room, who shouted down the idea of the pillow as insufficiently friendly. "And the forfeit?" While drinks and kisses and undone garments were suggested, Merry found a seat between Aster and Ferdie. He would have sat in Frodo's place, but Pippin was cheerfully jabbering away at Freddy; though Merry knew that Freddy's kissing-friends were all lasses, he still felt a twinge.

Aster provided a welcome distraction, with her apricot hair and her questions. "I don't think I know this game," she said, and Merry leaned just a bit close as he explained. "Squeak, Piggy, Squeak is a game where one hobbit is blindfolded and spun around so they forget which way is which, and then released to go sit in someone's lap. That's what the pillow would be for, but that'd be so distant, don't you think?"

"Oh, I do," Aster murmured, leaning in, brown eyes ingenuously wide. "So," Merry continued, feeling warmer already, "the hobbit who was spun must guess whose lap they sit in, and the only clue they get is a squeal from the hobbit they're sitting on. If they can't guess in three tries, they must pay a forfeit. Either way, their piggy is the next one up."

"Ah," said Aster, so close her breath brushed Merry's cheek. "What an interesting game. Maybe I'll end up in your lap?"

"Maybe," Merry agreed, smiling charmingly; he was actually annoyed, and amused with himself for it, when Frodo clapped his hands for attention. "Here are the rules," Frodo said. "We won't be using a pillow." The tweens cheered, including Aster, and Pippin. "And the forfeit will be that the guesser must stand their piggy a drink, using a kiss." The cheers at _that_ were deafening, though Garnet piped up, "What if you don't want them to kiss you?" Merry couldn't think of anyone in the room he wouldn't take a kiss from, but Frodo nodded. "Tap them gently on the cheek as a signal. Now. Who will go first?"

"Merry!" Pippin shouted, and the others took up the cry. "Merry, Merry! It's his Hall!" He shook his head demurely, and Frodo grinned and reached down to pull him to his feet as Ferdie and Aster pushed on his back. A handkerchief bound round his eyes, he was spun till his head swam; hands out, staggering slightly, he stumbled amidst giggles and cheers till he touched a lace-covered shoulder and plumped himself down in the lass's lap as she giggled till he knew quite well who she was. "Squeak, Piggy!" he commanded anyway, leaning back against her soft bosom, resting his head on her shoulder, and she squeaked, brandy-scented breath washing pleasantly across his face, and giggled again.

"I have no idea!" Merry proclaimed, and the lass shook with laughter as disbelieving comments were shouted from various corners of the room. "You know full well!" cried Pippin, and Merry laughed, insisting, "no idea"; the lass gently poked him in the ribs and squeaked again. "Aster?" he guessed, getting a giggle from the real Aster across the room and another poke from the lass. She squeaked longsufferingly, and Merry rolled his head on her shoulder so that she giggled fit to shake them both. "I must pay a forfeit," he declared, holding out his hand for the brandy, amid general whooping and hollering; the brandy burned sweetly in his mouth, but her kiss was hotter yet, even though she giggled into it so that a bit of brandy escaped to run down Merry's chin. She licked it away, and Merry grinned all the wider to hear Pippin huff just a bit, before he took his handkerchief off. "Estella!" Merry exclaimed as if shocked, and she laughed and poked him once more.

Merry got up with her and spun her, and sat down beside Pippin, who gently punched him. "You knew," Pippin accused as they watched Stel wobble around the circle and settle on Rosemary, amidst a great deal of giggling from both lasses.

"It's all in the game," Merry replied, and Pippin stuck out his tongue again, but leaned on his shoulder nevertheless.

As might be expected, there were not very many correct guesses, and the brandy drained away as the laughter and staggering grew. Rosemary wobbled over to Ferdie, who picked Frodo, who picked Aster, who picked Pippin; she guessed, "Merry," and looked genuinely surprised when everyone laughed and told her no. Flattered, Merry smiled to himself.

While Aster blindfolded and spun Pippin, Merry got up on a whim to sit beside Frodo. Pippin turned in a crazy circle as if he were dancing, and, whirling and laughing, tumbled into Merry's lap. "I have no idea!" Pippin shouted, wriggling back against Merry; as he squealed Merry glanced sidelong at the laughing Frodo and wondered which of them Pippin had aimed for.

Pippin kept squirming, till Merry's thoughts turned to whether he'd able to stand up afterwards. "Fatty?" Pippin cried improbably, and the other hobbits howled with laughter, Freddy himself falling over. Two more deliberately wrong guesses, and a great deal of maddening, blood-igniting wriggling later, and Merry thought Pippin well-revenged for the previous teasing with Estella, and wished he could keep him on his lap to hide what he'd accomplished. "I forfeit!" Pippin said cheerfully, and gave Merry an energetic brandy-sweet kiss, rocking him back so that he had to plant one hand behind himself to keep from falling over; Pippin wound an arm round his neck and pressed against him, writhing in his lap till Merry was so hard he could feel the weave of his smalls imprinting his hot skin.

Then Pippin whipped off the handkerchief. "Merry!" he said in mock surprise, his cheeky grin heating Merry even more than the brandy, making Merry's arms ache to wind round him. Planting his hands on the rug, Merry growled, "yes, and if you didn't know I'm a bald toad."

"It's your turn," replied Pippin cheerfully, and Merry closed his eyes against the sparkling green ones before him and imagined snow down his breeches as best he could in all this heat, before he let Pippin pull him to his feet and blindfold and spin him. Letting himself wobble without direction, Merry found himself in a very recognizable lap, due to the stoutness of the hobbit it belonged to. "Freddy," he said, and Freddy patted him on the shoulder. "Not going to kiss me?" he teased, and Merry cheerfully retorted, "I'm not in a skirt."

So the game went on, amidst giggles and brandy-soaked kisses. Pippin leaned on Frodo's shoulder and flirted with Garnet; Merry watched him, and felt proud and just a little jealous of his blooming tweenager. Stel and Aster ended up on either side of Merry, and giggled at and patted him most warmingly and distractingly, at least until Aster's turn landed her in Freddy's lap. Freddy waved off his turn in favor of sitting with Aster, and Estella took it for her brother and twirled in the circle till she landed on Garnet. Fairly soon, the game wound down to seven giggling couples, two empty brandy-bottles, and Merry smiling at them all even though his own lap was empty. The brandy and kisses had warmed him enough that he only felt the smallest twinge at watching Frodo drape his legs over Pippin's lap and lean their foreheads together, whispering something that made Pippin giggle. Merry supposed he could have been cross, especially after what he'd confided to Frodo, but, well, he hadn't asked either of them to alter their ways, nor would he. Besides, they looked fetching together, dark curls tumbling into chestnut, blue eyes and green sparkling.

A rap came to the door, and Merry rose to answer it, weaving only slightly. Mistress Woolyfoot the Assistant Housekeeper stood there, a lantern in her hand and a faintly disapproving look on her face. "Mr. Merry," she said, "Mistress Esmeralda sent me to see if your game might be done."

Merry glanced over his shoulder at the giggling, chatting, kissing hobbits behind him. "I think so, Miz Woolyfoot," he told her. "And we'd best to bed, then, before my mother comes to shoo us off?" Mistress Woolyfoot smiled at Merry's astute reception of the hint, and hid a yawn behind her hand as Merry clapped his hands and bid everyone goodnight, scooped up the empty brandy flasks and tucked them into his pockets, and set off for his room.

Brandy Hall really was a lovely old place, Merry thought, fondly trailing his hand along a silk-smooth banister, admiring the glow of the wooden paneling in the light of the candles in their sconces. A lovely, large warren of a place, that one day would be his charge, and after him his son's, if he had one. Distant giggles and murmurs echoed behind him, but the halls faded to quiet as he let his feet carry him on a wandering route through the cavernous main dining hall and the dim hallways. The hallway that held Merry's and his parents' apartments also had rooms for some of his more frequently visiting kin; Merry went down to Pippin's and Frodo's rooms to check at their doors, but heard nothing at either.

Shrugging, he returned to his room, finding the fire burned down to warm embers that gave a dim red light. Merry stripped off his weskit and shirt, tossing them over a chair; something made his ear twitch, and he paused, but he heard nothing but a soft pop from the fire. The breeches and smalls followed, and Merry went over to his bed, not really looking at it until he came close enough to notice that no pale nightshirt lay across it, and that it was very lumpy. Hadn't it been made?

A curly head popped out from beneath the covers, and Merry jumped. "Hullo, Merry!" said Pippin, eyes and smile shining even in the dim red firelight. "Won't you get in?"

"Pippin?" Merry stared stupidly, and Pippin fell sideways, laughing. "You should see your face! Come on, get in!"

"I thought you were with Frodo," Merry replied, a little fuzzed by the brandy, as Pippin raised the quilt and held out a hand. "And how'd you get here before me?" Pippin merely grinned and pulled Merry onto him; Merry bumped noses with his favorite Took, and felt a sizzling thrill at the feel of bare slender hips between his knees, and forgot his questions as Pippin's sweet boyish mouth eagerly caught his.

Then Merry jumped again, heart thudding into his throat, as a third hand slipped up his back. "Hullo, Merry," Frodo murmured in his ear as he gasped; Pippin laughed delightedly and pushed Merry over onto his back between them. "And how do you?"

"Since my heart's not stopped from shock, I'm fine," Merry replied, more breathlessly than his dignity liked, as Pippin wound one of Merry's arms round his waist and Frodo took the other hand between his. "You two, did you----"

"You were such the gracious host," said Frodo, eyes sparkling even in the dimness, "all set to go to bed alone."

"It didn't seem fair," Pippin said, hooking a leg over Merry's. "So we came to wait for you. What took you so long?"

Merry blinked, pressing his hand into Pippin's slender side, and tangling his fingers with Frodo's, and began to laugh for sheer delight. "You, you, both of you!" he sputtered, and they both laughed as Pippin splayed his fingers over Merry's heart and sucked on his eartip. "You didn't think you're the only one who knows of teamwork?" Frodo murmured, warm breath over Merry's lips, and kissed him.

Drowsy and tipsy and tucked between his favorite cousins, Merry relaxed like wax in warmth, his already fuzzy head going pleasantly light as Frodo gently and thoroughly kissed him and Pippin stroked and patted him with wonderfully wicked hands. Merry distantly wondered, as he sucked on Frodo's lower lip, where Frodo's hands had gotten to, till he felt his wrists pressed gently to the pillow beside his head. Reminded of a time when they'd tied Pippin up, Merry made a questioning noise, and Frodo answered with a chuckle and drew back to murmur, lips brushing Merry's cheek, "You lie here and enjoy us, Merry. See if you can tell whose hands from whose."

"And no peeking," Pippin added into the ear he was licking, "or we'll blindfold you."

Merry snorted; even so, unable to bestir his hazy mind to a retort, he obediently lay still, and Frodo and Pippin wriggled down into the bed, leaving him alone for a moment. Then they returned, two slender bodies pressed to his, four hands warmly stroking all over him, one mouth moving on his while the other pressed wet smacking kisses to his throat and chest. Merry moaned softly beneath the onslaught, almost stunned by the sheer _feel_ of them both, till teeth pressing into his nipple made him jump, and he groaned and dragged his hands and mind back to his command. Sinking his fingers into curls and waves of hair, striving to picture the lips pressed to his, Merry concluded that Frodo was the one kissing him again, Pippin the one nipping and stroking along his chest. His mouth was released so his cheek could be kissed; he murmured, "Frodo," and was rewarded with a smile curving against his throat, then a slow rousing bite that tightened steadily till he was almost thrashing as he moaned and clutched at the curly head pressed to his neck. "Frodo!" he heard himself wail as the patch of skin throbbed exquisitely beneath sharp teeth; Pippin paused in his trail of kisses to laugh over Merry's navel, as Frodo said, "hmmm?" into Merry's neck, sucking on the bite, tongue rough, soft and wet on the tingling skin.

"I guess you've guessed us," Pippin said with a giggle; Merry opened his mouth to somehow reply, but managed only a gasp. Frodo released the pulsing bite and blew coolingly over it before kissing a path up to Merry's ear as Pippin leaned over to trail his fingers along Merry's collarbone and kiss his trembling mouth. _They know me too well_, Merry thought, amused at how easily they had him, as Pippin parted his lips with an eager tongue and Frodo nibbled along the shell of his ear; he was already so roused he shook, hard up against his belly, and his cousins had no mercy. He might have laughed into the kiss if he hadn't been moaning, as hands sank into his hair and curled round his arm; one hand trailed tingles down his spine and another stroked up along his inner thigh, gently pressing his legs apart, and he was indeed losing track of whose hands were whose, and found he hardly cared.

The hand between his legs skittered along his flesh, fingertips pressing like kisses, until Frodo and Pippin pulled back a bit to admire their handiwork. "It would have been so very unfair," Pippin observed with satisfaction, stroking Merry's heaving chest, "to let you sleep alone."

"What would you like?" Frodo whispered in Merry's ear, nuzzling his curls aside, his hand---it was surely Frodo's hand, Merry could now tell---pressing with slowly mounting firmness behind Merry's stones in a place that made him see bright stars in the red-tinged darkness. "Which of us would you like first?"

Merry shook his head, gasping as clever fingers stroked him fore and aft of that wonderful pressure. Pippin, not to be outdone, curled his hand round Merry's prick, and there was no way he could have decided. "You," Merry choked out. "Both of you."

"At once?" asked Frodo, lips to Merry's temple; Merry nodded, feeling Frodo's mouth against his sliding skin. "Oooh, this sounds fun," cooed Pippin. "I know just how we might do it, too." He tugged Merry towards him, rolling him onto his side; Frodo divined Pippin's plan and chuckled warmly, untucking himself from Merry's back to fumble with the nightstand. Merry folded his arms round Pippin as they kissed again; as he traced the muscles along Pippin's spine he hazily thought how it felt a little strange that it didn't feel strange to lie in their arms and let them take him. Pippin tilted his head back and he went with the motion, all but boneless under Pippin's hands; Merry was used to being the bossy one, the one who planned and thought and did, but tonight Frodo and Pippin had set everything, and he gave himself over into their hands.

Frodo returned, leaning his brow against Merry's temple as he molded to his back. "Pippin, your hand," he murmured, and Pip stroked a hand up Merry's arm to reach Frodo's; Merry felt their fingers mesh and withdraw over his shoulder, before Pippin pressed closer, tangling their legs, and pushed their cocks together, wrapping a slippery hand round them both. The velvet-hard feel of it sent a rippling jolt through Merry, shaking him all over till Frodo's hand slid soothingly down along his side to curl round his hip. "Ready?" Frodo murmured in his ear between careful, deep breaths; Merry reached back to tug lightly at him, and Frodo gave a ragged-edged chuckle and pushed slowly. Pippin pulled his mouth from Merry's to kiss his cheek and chin as Merry sucked in a deep breath and willed himself to relax further yet.

Merry didn't know if his eyes were open or shut; it didn't matter, as red flickered along the edges of his vision, as Frodo's breaths came in harsh puffs as he pressed in, so slowly Merry's body flared and eased around him, so patiently Merry nearly begged him to go faster, push harder; he teetered and tingled, so roused he was aching, almost unable to breathe, as Pippin lay uncharacteristically still, holding them both wrapped in a hot slick hand. "Oh," Merry groaned, feeling his spine arch, his head fetch up against Frodo's shoulder, as Frodo's breath rushed warm across his cheek. "Merry?" Frodo gasped, lips on his ear. "Pip?"

"Please," Merry whimpered, and would have again, but he cried out instead as Pippin began to move, and Frodo began to move, and they kissed over him and kissed his hair and cheeks and throat as they moved in unison, stroking him and filling him and him caught between feeling it all. "Merry," Frodo groaned, low in his throat, thrusting harder, flesh smacking; "Merry," Pippin wailed into his shoulder, pumping with both hands, tremors carrying down all his limbs. It was building already, between Pippin's fingers round him and hardness pulsing against his, between Frodo deep within him and murmuring in his ear, and Merry wanted his peak to come, wanted this never to end, struggled for an endless heartbeat before he let go and let it surge up to wrap him in wet flame and burst forth in seed and screams.

His cousins had been waiting for him, and when he whiplashed and wailed between them Frodo pressed his brow to Merry's nape and cried out something liquid and unintelligible as his hand clenched on Merry's hip; Pippin gasped and laughed breathlessly and muffled his own cries against Merry's shoulder as he peaked. Four arms and four legs trembled and stroked and tightened round Merry as the fire flaring across his vision sank back again, pulling him down with it into warm darkness.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

He realized he must have fallen asleep, and stirred, but lips brushed his cheek and "shhhhh" soothingly filled his ear, and limbs still embraced him; he smiled and breathed and he sank back down.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

The next Merry knew was warm light over his eyes, when it was shaded as lips pressed to his brow and the mattress moved. "Frodo," he murmured, as a hand brushed his cheek; Merry found himself on his back, Pippin wrapped round him, his head fuzzy and remotely aching. He heard the door shut, and contemplated opening his eyes, and decided not to.

He was just dozing off again when Pippin stirred. "Hsst, Merry, are you awake?"

"No," Merry replied, rolling over onto his side. Pippin went with him, tucking himself to Merry's back. "You should tell me when you're worried," he said in a low thoughtful voice that pushed Merry's eyes open. "Pippin?" Merry mumbled, twisting around.

It was still early enough for the dawn light to be pink, catching the red in Pippin's chestnut hair and making his eyes even greener. Pippin propped his head on his arm and regarded Merry soberly. "You worried about if I might leave you, Merry," he said without preamble, "you worried about it to Frodo, but you never said anything to me. You really ought to have, you know."

"What?" Merry blinked, trying to push the sleep-haze from his mind, A serious Pippin? Was this a dream? But his head dully ached from the brandy, not horribly but enough to tell him he was awake.

Pippin laid his hand on Merry's chest, over his heart, which leapt as if to reach it. "Frodo didn't tell me, if you were wondering," he said, still serious. "But something's been wrong with you for awhile, and then I heard you talking to him, and knew what it was. You should have said something to me, Merry, so I could have told you."

"Told me, Pippin?" Merry felt his mind slowly coming up to speed. Pippin had seen his worry? Pippin knew?

"Told you I love you, you silly Brandybuck." Now Pippin did smile, brighter than the dawn outside. "I love you, Merry, don't you know that? It's great fun being a tween, but I'm not ever going to leave you, not for anyone."

Confusion and relief and joy all mingled, crashing down onto Merry, buoying him up. "You love me, Pippin?" Pippin grinned, nodding encouragingly even as Merry gibbered, "but one day, we'll both have to wed, and---"

"---and I'll stand at your wedding and cheer, and be sure to be friends with your wife, and you'll do the same at mine and for mine. Of course we'll marry one day, and of course we'll chase and be caught now. We're both tweenagers, and two of the handsomest lads in the Shire, it wouldn't be fair to deny everyone ourselves." Pippin's grin tilted cockily, and Merry couldn't help but grin back; then he gasped, just a little, as Pippin's hand slid up his throat and cheek into his hair, as Pippin's grin softened into a smile. "We both love others, but we both love each other. I'll always be your Pippin."

"My Pippin." The words tasted like honey. "I love you."

"I know, Merry. I love you, too." Pippin leaned over to kiss him, sweet as his words. Merry reached up and wound his arms round him, pulling Pippin down and rolling them over, filling his senses with his Took; Pippin giggled and wound his legs round Merry's waist and returned the kiss heartily.

"And here I thought you'd be hung over." They hadn't even heard the door open. Merry tore his mouth from Pippin's to look up and see Frodo setting a full pitcher of water on the nightstand. "You will be, if you don't drink something. Did you have a nice talk?"

"I did most of it," Pippin said, unwinding an arm to reach for a mugful of water. "Merry mostly gaped at me."

"You usually do most of the talking," Frodo agreed, and Pippin stuck his tongue out at him. Merry rolled over to sit up and catch Frodo in an embrace tight enough to make him wheeze. "You two planned this," he accused lovingly, stopping Frodo's mouth with a kiss before he could reply, and Pippin's answering laugh was far warmer than the sunshine.


End file.
